


Through Eyes That Aren't My Own

by RaspberrySwish



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Bea I is Bea, Bea II is Bee, Body Sharing, Crack Treated Seriously, For clarity purposes, Gen, Ghost Possesion, all romance is only when bea was alive, ghost bea isn't doing anything like that esp since she's a child now technically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:55:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25102009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaspberrySwish/pseuds/RaspberrySwish
Summary: As Beatrice Baudelaire lays dying in the fire that destroyed her home she hears a voice, that of a girl in need, and comes to her aid.Turns out, that girl is her granddaughter, also named Beatrice, and in a attempt to help her escape her VFD kidnappers, Beatrice accidentally possesses her.Problem solved, right? Wrong. Problem very much not solved. Now stuck in control of her 14 year old granddaughter, Beatrice sets out to reunite the girl with her parents, but she has some ideas of her own...
Relationships: Beatrice Baudelaire & Beatrice Snicket, Beatrice Baudelaire & Klaus Baudelaire & Sunny Baudelaire & Violet Baudelaire, Beatrice Baudelaire & Lemony Snicket, Beatrice Snicket & Lemony Snicket, Klaus Baudelaire & Sunny Baudelaire & Violet Baudelaire & Beatrice Snicket, Past Beatrice Baudelaire/Bertrand Baudelaire, Past Beatrice Baudelaire/Lemony Snicket, Possible Past Lemonberry Ice
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	1. An Escape

Beatrice never knew that being burned alive hurt this much. 

She had spent hours reading about it when she was younger, to prepare, of course, but also as a warning. A promise of what would happen to you if you stepped out of line.

But in all her books, in all her studies, it had never mentioned this pain. This searing, blinding pain, starting from the bottom and working her way up.

Bertrand had died hours ago.

He was a few feet away, gone from smoke inhalation just inches out of her reach.

She was glad he went that way. It was kinder, more gentle.

Not like this.

She had accepted that she would die here ages ago, but now that the fire had reached her chest she was starting to regret it. She could feel her organs fail one by one, the darkness closing in on her, blacker than she ever could have imagined.

_ It’s a painful fate, and a final one, _ she thought.  _ But I deserve it. For what I did. _

Beatrice reached out towards Bertrand’s hand, limp and sooty and grabbed it, taking her last breath right next to her husband, the sounds of the world fading away, so it was just the crackling of the fire and herself, all alon-

_ “Where am I?” _ a voice called out. It sounded like a child, maybe around Violet’s age. 

_ “Dad? Mom?” _

The voice paused.

_ “Sunny?” _

***

She woke up somewhere dark, the light barely filtering through a crack in the roof, everything else eerily silent.

“Where am I?” Beatrice mumbled, trying to clear the fog out of her head.

She couldn’t think straight, everything was a blur. The last thing she remembered was her father’s face, telling her about a fire, and how she had to get outside.

Her father! Where was he! Her whole life, Klaus Baudelaire had never been more than a few yards away, a comforting presence she needed right about now.

“Dad?” she called out. “Mom?”

Her heart beat faster in her chest, and she could feel her throat start to tighten.

“Sunny?”

Nothing. 

There was no one here. 

_ Hello? _

She heard a voice call out, faint, barely penetrating the silence enveloping her.

_ Is someone there? _

“Who are you?” she asked it. “Where am I?”

_ I don’t know. It’s so hot here, I can’t breathe. _

Beatrice shivered. Hot? She was freezing.

“I don’t understand,” she told it. “Are you okay?”

As Beatrice waited for an answer, she reached out, her fingers coming up against a wall, the paint peeling near the bottom. She was in a building, and an old one evidently.

“ _ I can still feel the flames,”  _ the voice whispered almost imperceptibly.

“Is this a joke?” Beatrice asked. Her sister played jokes on her all the time, maybe she had fallen asleep somewhere, and was locked in a closet or something. A big, empty, closet, with peeling paint and eerie voices. 

“Sunny?” she said again, her voice wavering. “Sunny, this isn’t funny, I’m scared!”

The voice spoke again, stronger now, and Beatrice decided that it sounded like a woman, a little more than five years older than her own mother was now.

Her mother. Beatrice wished her mother was here. She would smile at her, and talk her through the problem, tying her hair up in a ribbon to think.

She was going to have to think.

Beatrice groped around, searching for her bag, only to find it was no longer with her. 

She checked her pockets, thankful to find a ribbon in there, this one a deep maroon mixed with white, the one her mother had got her for her fourteenth birthday, three months before. 

Beatrice tied her hair up the way Violet had taught her when she was younger, making sure it would stay in place.

She missed her mother so much right now.

Beatrice pushed the thought out of her head.  _ The ribbon is up now, Bea.  _ She said to herself.  _ You have to pay attention now, focus on the voice. _

“Are you still there?” Beatrice asked, the shape of the room repeating it in an eerie echo.

“ _ I thought you were gone,” the voice said. “That I was alone again.” _

Beatrice tried scanning the room again, her eyes better adjusting to the darkness. She was in a small space, an air mattress and blanket in one corner, some books in the other. No woman. No voice.

“I think…” Beatrice said to her, “We’re both alone.” 

She stood up and moved to the center of the room, underneath the crack where the light filtered in.

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t help each other.”

There was no response from the voice for a second or two, and Beatrice stood there for what seemed like minutes.

“ _ You sound young,” the voice said, “Almost as old as my daughter.” _

“I am young,” she replied. “My family was always telling me that. Sunny never let me forget it.”

_ The woman let out a sharp noise. “I know someone named Sunny,” she whispered, her volume now increased so that it could barely be considered one. _

“You do?” Beatrice asked her. “Sunny’s my sister.”

_ “My daughter,” the voice told her. _

Beatrice nodded. “Do you know where I am?” she asked the voice. “I only remember flashes.”

_ “Do I know where you are?” the voice asked. “I don’t know where I am.” _

“But can you help?” Beatrice asked her.

_ “I can,” she answered. “Tell me what you see.” _

Beatrice looked around the room a second time, her eyes now fully accustomed to the lack of light.

“I see a mattress, a blanket, and a stack of books.” she said.

_ “Nothing else? No door?” _

Beatrice swallowed. 

“No door. There’s no door.”

_ The voice acknowledged this, calmer now with Beatrice’s problems than her own. _

_ “What are the books?” she asked. “Read me their titles.” _

Beatrice picked the top book off the stack, holding it up to the light to see the 

title.

“Anna… Karen… Nina?” she told the voice.

The voice mumbled something under her breath, suspiciously close to a curse.

_ “Tell me the others.” she said. “Quickly.” _

Beatrice was surprised by the sudden urgency, and read off the other titles, the

voice getting more agitated as she went on.

“Is something wrong?” Beatrice asked.

_ “You need to find a way out of there,” the voice said. “Before someone comes to _

_ check on you.” _

“Where even is here?” she said. “I still don’t know where I am!”

_ You’re in someone’s house,” the voice said. “Maybe a basement or a shed. Wherever  _

_ it is, it’s going to be hard to get out of, but you have to, and fast.” _

“What’s happening right now?” Beatrice mumbled. “I don’t understand.”

_ “I’ll have to explain more later,” the voice told her. “But I think some bad people _

_ have you, and I’m going to help you get out.” _

“Bad people? Why would they-”

_ “Please!” the voice yelled. “You have to listen to me-” there was a pause. _

“Beatrice.”

_ The voice almost laughed. “Beatrice. Bea. You have to listen to me, Bea.” _

Beatrice nodded. “Okay. So what do I do?”

_ “Are you seeing a hatch?” the voice asked her. “Or maybe a rug? There’s no door, so  _

_ there has to be another way in and out.” _

“There’s nothing!” Bea called back. “Just the bed and the books.”

_ “Can you move the bed?” the voice asked her. “It could be under there.” _

Beatrice rushed over to the mattress, throwing the blanket aside as she pulled it to 

the far wall.

_ Thank goodness for air mattresses,  _ she thought.

She rushed back over to where the mattress had been, expecting to see a trapdoor, 

escape hatch, something!

But there was nothing there.

_ “Tell me,” the voice asked her. “Do you see it?” _

“It’s not there,” she whispered. “There’s no way out.”

_ “Bea!” the voice called. “Bea, don’t give up! There has to be something else. There’s always something.” _

Beatrice smiled at Violet’s mantra, coming out of the mouth of a stranger.

“There’s always something,” she repeated. “Always.”

If the voice had a body Beatrice thought it would be smiling. 

_ “Exactly, Bea.” she said. “Always. Now tell me what you see. Slower this time. Be detailed.” _

Beatrice turned around, taking the full layout of the room.

“I’m in some sort of enclosed space, probably a basement like you said. There’s paint on the walls. It’s peeling and looks old. The only light is coming from a crack in the ceiling.” 

She stopped for a moment. 

“No, that’s wrong. There’s light, coming from somewhere else. I can’t… I don’t know where it’s starting but it’s there.”

_ “That’s perfect!” the voice cheered. “You said the room had a blanket?” _

Beatrice picked the blanket off the floor. 

“It does. I have it.”

_ “Great. Now stand on the mattress and try to put the blanket over the crack, block that source of light.” _

Beatrice did as she was told, noticing a spot on one of the walls, another crack, this one slim and putting out the barest amount of light.

“I see it!” she cried. “Coming from the wall! What do I do now?”

_ “You push on it.” _

Beatrice ran over to the far wall, pressing her hands against it and pushing, as hard as she could. 

Within moments it gave way, revealing a sort of hidden passage, a small dark hallway that ended abruptly a few yards in. 

“What is this place?” Beatrice wondered aloud.

_ The voice replied. _

_ “Somewhere you don’t want to be.” _

Beatrice nodded and made it to the end of the hallway, finding a trapdoor and a stepladder.

She quickly set up the ladder and opened the door to find herself in the middle of someone’s house, a kitchen to be precise.

“Who would-” Beatrice began, as a noise from behind made her jump.

“You shouldn’t be here,” a man’s voice came from behind her.

_ “Run!” the voice shouted in her mind. _

Beatrice didn’t make it far. She burst out into a sprint, making it almost to the

door when the man grabbed her shoulder from behind, bringing her down to the floor.

She kicked at him and managed to tear herself loose, crawling towards the front door.

_ “Just a little farther!” The voice shouted in her mind.  _ By now Beatrice had determined that it was coming from somewhere inside her, although at the present moment she had bigger concerns to think about than the possibility of going crazy.

She was almost out when Beatrice felt a tight grip on her left ankle, and a tender pain. 

The man had her by the ankle, and dragged her back towards him, her foot feeling like it was on fire the entire time.

_ Why does it hurt so much?  _ She thought. 

Beatrice fought and screamed as she was dragged back into the kitchen, forced to face the man as he took something shiny out of his pocket and brought it down into the meat of her leg.

_ I wonder where the voice went?  _ She thought as she drifted into unconsciousness.

  
  


Beatrice knew the second Bea was knocked out. She couldn’t explain it, but in that moment she could feel the drugs inside her, feel her body laying on the linoleum floor, feel the burn on the inside of her left ankle. In that half of a second, she  _ was _ Beatrice. Both of them. 

And then that second ended. Beatrice felt herself detach from the girl, and the void returned, encompassing her on all four sides, but in some cruel twist of fate, letting her watch as the man who knocked out Bea began to drag her away.

Beatrice tried to clear her head. This was getting confusing, even for her. Beatrice, Beatrice, Bea, etc. She created a little reminder in her head. She was Bea, the girl was Bee. They were both Beatrice. Now they could share.

Bea internally scolded herself. She was focusing on nicknames while Bee was being dragged away. That was so not a priority right now.

Not really knowing how she did it, Beatrice found Bee’s mind with hers, and tried to look inside, do something, anything to help. She was met with a wall. A strong one. Something personal.

Bea didn’t give a shit about any of the right now. Boundaries didn’t count when you were in the hands of a dangerous cult.

Beatrice felt herself grimace as she thought that word.  _ Cult.  _ Even in her own head it still sounded wrong. There was more to it than that. But tell that to Bee, who was still unconscious on the floor of the kitchen. 

She needed to stop thinking and act. Now.

She needed to push.

Beatrice put some mental weight against the wall, cursing internally as it barely shifted. This was going to take a lot of force.

She pushed harder, her mind going to her husband. She missed him so much. She didn’t even know how long it had been since she last saw him, Bertrand dead and her dying on the floor of their home, but it felt too long, years instead of mere moments. 

The wall now weakening against her, she thought of her children, all three of them, resourceful and intelligent, and most importantly of all, kind. She hoped they were okay. She had to get to them, to help them, make sure what was happening to Bee wasn’t happening to them. 

She knew the burning mansion was just moments ago, but something inside her made her feel that it was longer, that something awful had happened.

Beatrice felt inclined to laugh there. Something awful  _ had happened.  _ To her. She didn’t know where she was, hell, she didn’t know  _ what _ she was, and she didn’t know why anything was happening, only that this girl in front of her, Bee, needed help, and she was the only one there. 

And so she pushed. 

The wall crumbled in front of her, and Beatrice felt the crushing feeling of pressure and confusion and… light? 

She slowly opened her eyes, blinded by the shocking white of tile, freshly polished, and her reflection staring back at her, two blue eyes framed by locks of brown hair.

Wait, that wasn’t right.

Her eyes weren’t blue, and her hair was black not brown. Something was wrong.

The face staring back at her wasn’t her own.

“Bee?” she whispered, finding her voice coming out wrong, much too young.

“Bee is that you?”

From inside her she heard a whisper as something began to wake up.

_ “What happened? Why can’t I move my body?” _

Beatrice gasped in shock. She had made a big mistake. She had somehow stolen Bee’s body.

“ _ Where am I? What’s going on?”  _ she heard Bee call.

“Bee, sweetie, you’re in your head, so just-”

Beatrice felt a blow to her back.

VFD. The man must have realized that she was still awake. Shit.

Beatrice flung her feet backwards, hitting the man’s legs and knocking him to the floor.

“Hang in there, Bee!” she called. “I just need a second to get you out of here.”

_ “You’re… I’m…”  _ Bee slowly began to realize what was going on. 

“ _ Be quick Miss,”  _ she said. _ “And make sure to kill the guy.” _

Beatrice was surprised by Bee’s bluntness. 

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“ _ I was locked in his basement.” _

Beatrice nodded, watching as the man tried to get up, both of their eyes catching on the cutting board on the counter, and the knife sitting on top of it.

They both raced for it, Beatrice becoming grateful that Bee was fast, her hand now solidly wrapped around the handle of the blade.

The man looked scared now, backing up as she neared him, a look of panic in his eyes.

Beatrice knew that look, or rather what came after. A half a second where their eyes met hers as the life drained out of them. She felt sick. She couldn’t do this. Not again. Not to Bee.

“Back up against the wall,” she told the man, ignoring Bee’s confused cries.

“Put your hands up and walk down the tunnel. Go into the room and count to a thousand before coming out. Any less and I kill you.”

She gestured at him with the knife.

“Do you understand me?”

He nodded quietly and slipped into the tunnel.

When the trapdoor closed behind him, Beatrice let out a sigh of relief and dropped the knife.

“ _ What the hell was that?” Bee said. “I asked you to kill him!” _

Beatrice shook her head.

“It’s not worth it.”

Bee started complaining again, but Beatrice shushed her.

“We can talk about this later, but we need to go. Now. He’s not going to wait for a thousand.”

She could feel Bee’s disapproval.

_ “You should have stabbed him while you had the chance.” _


	2. A Realization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beatrice learns of her connection to Bee.

Beatrice stumbled out onto the street, her legs unused to the feeling of ground under her feet.

What had happened to her? What was  _ happening  _ to her?

Beatrice shook her, or rather Bee’s head. She would figure it out later. She had to run as fast as she could, get this girl away from  _ them.  _

She was somewhere in the city, that was for sure. Beatrice recognized some of the landmarks as she weaved through the streets of her hometown.

Right there was the park she used to take her kids, and there, the ice cream parlor she would walk to with Lemony when they were younger, and both stationed in the city.

_ “Where are we going?”  _ Bee asked in her head.

She was never going to get used to that. The tickle as she spoke. It reminded her that she was wrong, that this was wrong. 

She shouldn’t be here. She should be back there, wherever  _ there  _ was. 

That limbo she was trapped in. 

Beatrice didn’t like that word. Limbo. It implied she was dead.  _ She wasn’t. She couldn’t. _

Just because the last thing she remembered happened being trapped, happened to be flames, licking at her sides… that didn’t mean… she wasn’t…  _ right?  _

She didn’t know anything anymore.

_ “Hello… Miss…?”  _ Bea repeated.  _ “Where are we going?” _

“It’s Beatrice,” she said absentmindedly.

_ “Beatrice?” Bee asked. “That’s my name.” _

Bea laughed. “What a coincidence.”

Bee made a noise.

_ “What did you say your last name was?” _

Beatrice frowned. “Why?”

_ “Wouldn’t it make sense to have some sort of distinguisher?” Bee said. “A way to tell us apart?” _

“We do. I’m Bea, you’re Bee.”

_ “You just said the same thing twice.” _

“One has an “E”.”

_ “They both sound the exact same.” _

“But they’re spelled differently.”

_ “How does that help us if we’re speaking out loud?” _

Beatrice smiled. She liked this girl already. 

“I’m Beatrice,” she said. “Beatrice Baudelaire.”

Bee made another noise, something between a gasp and a snort.

“ _ That’s impossible.” _

“How so?”

_ “You can’t also be called that.” _

Beatrice was confused.

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

_ “It means,” Bee said. “That my name is Beatrice as well. Beatrice Baudelaire. The Second.” _

Beatrice gulped. She suddenly had a very bad feeling about that whole “not dead” thing.

“I, um…” Beatrice mumbled. “I think we need to talk. About what’s happening.”

_ “I totally agree. There are some things I need to tell you. Things you won’t like.” _

Beatrice laughed dryly.

“I already don’t like the sound of that.”

They went a little deeper into the city together, slowing to a brisk walk, still trying to put as much distance between themselves and the man as possible.

_ “When are we going to stop?” Bee asked. “My feet hurt.” _

Beatrice paused.

Her feet hurt? But how could she feel her feet if-

She noticed in that moment that  _ her  _ feet didn’t hurt. In fact she couldn’t feel them at all. She couldn’t feel anything. 

“I- of course.”

They were in an alleyway, and Bea ducked down behind the nearest dumpster.

“Does anything else hurt?” she asked.

_ “My head.” Bee said. “But just a bit. I was feeling a bit numb earlier from whatever he injected me with, but besides that, it’s just my feet from the walking. That and my side. Sometimes you forget to breathe and I have to do it for you.” _

“You can control things like that?” Beatrice asked.

_ “I-” Bee stammered. “Now that I’m thinking about it, I’m not sure. It just happened.” _

“Of course,” Beatrice said. “Now, would you like to have that talk now?”

_ “I mean… sure? I hate to be rude, but I have a question.” _

“Shoot.”

_ “Are you dead?” _

Beatrice sat there in silence.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t feel dead. I feel alive. Normal, or at least, Normal Enough. But I- I’m scared I might be.”

_ “What’s the last thing you remember?” Bee asked. _

“I- Flames. Heat. My husband’s hand in mine. Just that. Over and over, for what seemed like seconds. But I’m starting to think it might have been more. Longer.”

Bee was silent.

“What year is it?” Beatrice said desperately.

_ “The year of the Rat,” Bee answered finally. _

“Of course it is,” Bea mumbled. “It’s  _ always  _ the year of the Rat around here.”

_ “Huh?”  _

“Oh, nothing.”

_ “Can I ask you another question?” Bee said. _

Beatrice was curled up now, her head in her hands.

“Why not?”

_ “Did you um… have any children?” _

Beatrice let out a sob.

“They’re going to be all grown up now… or dead. What if they’re dead? Oh god, what if I killed them?”

_ “Don’t panic!” Bee shouted as Beatrice began to cry harder. “I’m sure they’re all right. In fact, I’m certain of it.” _

She sniffed.

“You’re sure? Do you know where they are?”

_ “No,I- um…” Beatrice was pretty sure she could hear Bee start to get choked up. “I don’t know where they are. That’s my problem. I have to find them, all of them. Quickly. I need them. We need each other. We’re all we’ve got and I just- what if they have them? What if they’re looking for me and they can’t find me or maybe they-” _

“Are you close?” Beatrice asked. “They sound like they mean a lot to you.”

_ “They’re my family,” she said. “My parents.” _

“Your parents…” Beatrice whispered. “I missed everything… They have to be what, my age now?”

_ “Not exactly,” Bee said awkwardly. “They had me young. Sunny is only about a year and a half older than I am.” _

“Sunny…” Beatrice smiled. “She’s maybe what? Sixteen?”

_ “Fifteen.” _

“And Klaus… that makes him about-” her voice broke. “Twenty-seven. And Violet…”

“Oh no, I-”

_ “Hey,” Bee said. “It could be worse. You were scared that they were dead, right? They’re not, I mean they weren’t when I last saw them, but I don’t know about those people, they-” _

“VFD,” Beatrice interrupted. “Those people were VFD.”

_ “That’s VFD?” Bee asked. “Why would they…? I don’t understand, I thought they were the good guys?” _

“Who told you that?” Beatrice panicked. “Was it your parents?”

_ “No, I- They never told me anything about VFD. Only snatches, arguments, Sunny saying something too loud. I barely know what they are, I just-” _

“But your parents knew?” Beatrice asked. “They knew everything? All of it?”

_ Bee was silent for a second. _

_ “I’m sorry, I don’t know. They never told me anything.” _

Beatrice nodded.

“I just- I did bad things, I kept secrets. What if they don’t- what if they can’t forgive me? What if they were better off with me dead? Would they even want me back?”

_ “Beatrice-is it okay if I call you Beatrice? Trust me, they miss you. They want you back. They don’t care about the bad things you’ve done, the people you’ve killed, the fires you’ve set, the secrets you’ve kept. You’re their parent, they only care about you.” _

“How do you know?” Beatrice whimpered.

_ “Because,” Bee said. “I care about mine.” _

Beatrice didn’t know what to say to that, and Bee didn’t expect a reply. Instead they just cried. Together. For their children, their parents, the people they missed dearly.

They cried, and they hoped everything would be okay.

Beatrice woke up next to a dumpster as the sun set, the two girls having accidentally taken a nap there earlier that afternoon.

“We need to go,” Beatrice said.

“ _ Again?” Bee complained. “We just did that.” _

“Yes again,’ she said. “We have to keep moving so that man won’t find us.”

_ “He wouldn’t be trying to find us if we had killed him earlier,” Bee grumbled. _

“If we killed him earlier, then the police would be after us too. Besides, murder is bad.”

_ “Says who?” _

“Says me, now shush.”

Beatrice leaned forward, closing her eyes to hear better. There were the sounds of stray cats, birds, people, but they were normal sounds. The kind of sounds that didn’t signify VFD luring some poor child into their clutches.

It was safe to move.

Beatrice didn’t exactly know where they were going, but they had to go somewhere, hide somewhere, maybe an empty building or apartment. Somewhere she could make a plan.

They. Somewhere  _ they  _ could make a plan. 

She had to remember that she wasn't alone anymore, she had Bee, someone who felt the consequences of her actions, literally. 

She may be in control right now, but the matter is, Bee was the real one in charge. She was the one who was still living, still had a body.

_ “Beatrice?” Bee mumbled. “I’m cold.” _

Beatrice looked up. The sky was darkening, the sun had set, and she could feel her body shivering.

She had messed up again.

Beatrice stood herself up, shaking her legs to try and wake them up.

She had stayed outside too long in the cold, she had hurt Bee.

She couldn’t even do that right.

“Bee, can you hear me?” she asked frantically.

“ _ Yes?” the young girl replied. _

“Okay, Bee,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

Bee laughed.

_ “Bad.” _

“Can you be more specific?”

Beatrice was moving around now, scanning the nearby streets for an empty apartment, or someplace warm.

_ “Very bad.” _

Beatrice sighed.

“Anything else you’re feeling there?”

Bee laughed softly.

_ “The drugs… they’re still giving me a headache. And I’m cold. Really cold.” _

Beatrice pursed her lips.

Why were there no abandoned apartments?

With a few more questions aimed at Bee, Beatrice grasped the urgency of their situation, and began to move faster, switching to the sidewalk, then the middle of the street as she tried to find someplace to stay.

Bee’s body was tiring out. Even Beatrice could feel it at this point, the way her limbs moved like lead, the pallid color of Bee’s skin, shades lighter than her own had been..

Her entrance, takeover, whatever it was, must have delayed the drugs from taking effect, waking Bee up quicker.

But now that burst of adrenaline was losing its hold, and both of them, Bee and Beatrice, were looking towards a complete shutdown for however long the drugs were meant to last.

Beatrice only hoped that it wouldn’t happen in the middle of the street.

“Bee?” she asked. “Bee, I need your help. Can you tell me if you see anything, open windows, an enclosed space?”

At this point almost anything would do.

_ “Whatdabuchamwantmetado?” Bee mumbled in her ear. _

“Say that again?” Bea said.

_ “Youwanmealookfora…” she whispered, fading out. _

“Shit,” Beatrice mumbled.

If Bee was out, then she didn’t have much time left herself. 

Bea’s eyes were drawn up and to the left, where a broken shutter was hanging precariously off a third story apartment, just a small climb from the fire escape the floor below it.

Beatrice ran towards that building, clapping her hands together to try and regain some feeling from the cold.

“You can do this,” she whispered. “You’ve done a million things way more dangerous than this, in worse situations.”

_ But you didn’t do those dangerous things with someone else at stake, _ she thought to herself

She shook it off. The drugs had already knocked out Bee, and she could feel them coming for her. It was now or never.

Beatrice scrambled up the fire escape, the rusted metal clanging dangerously under her weight.

She raced past the first floor, drawing a stare from a woman staring out her window, but she would have to deal with that later. 

Using both hands, she pulled herself up to the second floor, her legs starting to give way under her.

Just a few more seconds, please, she begged. We’re so close!

She could see the window now, and from the state of it, she was certain that the room would be empty.

Dragging herself a few steps closer, Bea grabbed her leg and placed it on the edge of the fire escape, moving the other one to follow it, a hard enough feat in itself, as Bee wasn’t as flexible as she was.

With both feet now on the fire escape, Bea placed her hands on the sill, hoisting her body up so she was at waist level with the edge of the window.

She could feel the drugs weighing on her, forcing her eyelids closed, but Beatrice wasn;t done yet.

Using her arms as a source of strength, she tipped herself forward, falling through the window frame before passing out on the floor of the abandoned apartment.


End file.
